Calmly driven up toward the mob in the road came a mountain buckboard drawn by two sweating horses. In the seat was a man who drove as if the reins were completely in control. He appeared to be stockily built, and his shoulders––broad, heavy, and high––had, even in that posture, 15 the unmistakable stamp of one who is accustomed to stooping his way through drifts and tunnels. He wore a black slouch hat, which had been shaped by habitual handling to shade his eyes. His hair was white; his neck short and thick, with a suggestion of bull-like power and force. His face, as he approached to closer range, showed firm and masterful. His nose was dominant––the nose of a conqueror who overrides all obstacles. He came steadily forward, without in the least changing his attitude, or betraying anxiety, or haste. The men in the road waited, squarely across his path, and their hoarse fulminations had died away to a far more terrifying silence; yet he did not seem to heed them as his horses advanced.
“Gad! Doesn’t he know who they are?” the bigger man by the rock mumbled to his partner.
“If he doesn’t he has a supreme nerve,” the younger man replied. “They look to me as if they mean trouble. They’re in a pretty nasty temper––what with all the poison they’ve poured in, and all the injustice they believe they have met. Wonder who’s right?”
A shout from the crowd in the roadway interrupted any further speculation. The man who had first appeared on the road-house porch 16 threw up his hand, and roared, “Here he is! We’ve got him! It’s the Bully!”
The shout was taken up by others until a miniature forest of raised fists shook themselves threateningly at the man in the buckboard who was now within a few feet of them.
“Get a rope, somebody! Hang him!” yelled an excited voice.
“Yes, that’s the goods,” screamed another, heard above the turmoil. “Up with the Bully!”
Two men sprang forward, and caught the horses by their bits, and brought them to an excited, nervous stop, and the others began to surround the wagon. The man in the seat made no movement, but sat there with a hard smile on his firm lips. The partners stepped to the top of a convenient rock, where they could overlook the meeting, and watched, perturbed.
“I don’t know about this,” the elder said doubtfully. “Looks to me like there’s too many against one, and I ain’t sure whether he deserves hangin’. What do you think?”
“Let’s wait and see. Then, if they get too ugly, we’ll give them a talk and try to find out,” the younger man answered.